The Forrest City times., 1887-10-29

CAIIe eh4iuutu- tOHSAN s4NAA' across the broad. shining stream. ap- peared to be wearing huge. black oyercoat, torn almost in two. But a second glance showed the strange ob- ject to be raven nearly as big as him. self. which hung loosely over his shoulders, as if dead or badly hurt.
 ''See what I've got motherP' cried he. gleefully. Il found it in the wood yonder. with it's wing broken. At first it snapped at me and wouldn't let me touch it. bu! it's quet enough now. Isn't it a big one7'
 "Oh. you dreadful boyr cried his mother. What do you think we're going to do with a great ugly thing ike that about the house7 And who $ going to feed it. pray"
 "Why, mother. you know you d. ways say that ths house of ours on the island IS just like an ark and Noah had . raven in his ark that he used to send hying about. and why should't we' Besides, We can teach him to carry messages for us, like that one that Father Gregolre told us about the other day"
 Well. there's something in that, " said Jean Lenoir, laughing, 'snd as for feeding. q raven can pick up his own living any day. and besides, we have always plenty of odds and ends of fish. Bring him in. my boy. and We Il see what can be done with him.
 The broken wing soon healed. and in q few months Pierre's raven (named christopher. in honor of the ferry mans patron saint) had become fa- nous through the whole country s de. Many g br ght silver franc dd P.erre pick Up at the village fairs by making the bird go through the tricks which he had taught it; aud when once it had learned to carry messages. the people along the river gave il so many that the postman used often to threaten it iokingly with a summons before the magistrates for taking away his bus- ness.
 Even Pierre's mother got reconcilied to the great ugly thing at last; more especially as the good pries. of the parish. Father Gregoire. was very fond of it, and never came 10 see them with out bringing something good in his pocket for our friend Chr stopher.
 Sometimes. indeed, as soon as the kind clergyman's black cassock and broad hat were seen on the opposite bank, little Pierre would DO mt and call out Food Christopher" And the raven. shooting like an arrow across the river. would perch on the priest s shoulder and thrust his great, black bill into the old mans pocket in search of food which he was always sure to find there.
 So matters went till one night in the early Spring. when Jean Leuoir. com ing home tired after a hard day s work, paused for moment, as he got out of hs boat, to notice strange. leaden dimness that overhung the h lls along the eastern sky.
 it must be raining hard up in the mountains" said he to himself. and then thought no more abot it.
 But at daybreak next morning he awakened from a dream of being at sea in storm. which seemed strangely real after he was broad awake. Doors were banging. windows rattling. timbers creaking and grooming, mingled with roaring and dash ng as if Niagara had been let loose close to his ear Hardly knowing what he did. he sprang to the door and threw it open. and instantly started back as fl he had been shot
 The water was within foot of the door sill.
 Worse still. it was plainly ris ng higher every moment. The Rhone. swollen by the heavy rains and the sudden melting of the mountair Il snows. had burst its banks and come down in full flood. driven by such a gale as had not blown in these parts since the great storm ten years before. All sorts of things went whir,ing past up- on the yellow foam-drowned sheep. hurdles. beams, boxes and uprooted trees. upon one of which crouched a poor little shvering dog. wailing piteously fer the help that no one could give.
 Jeans first thought was for his boat; but both it and the shed in which il was moored were gone, as if they had never been. Sick at heart he clam bered up into the loft after his wife and son. just as the water came flooding in over the door sill.
 Meanwhile. an anxious crowd had gathered on the opposite bank. eager 10 help the imperiIled family on the island. But how was ths to be done? No boat could live in that boiling flood. and it seemed hopeless to think of getting rope across
 The strongest man could not fling a stone so far. A kite would be instant ly torn to shreds by the wind, and they had no means of sending across either an arrow or bullet.
 Poor Father Gregoire ran wildly from man to man. imploring them to save his friends. and meeting every where the same despairing shake of the head And still the water rose higher, and higher. and higher
 Suddenly Pierre put his mouth close to his fathers ear, and screamed with all his might through the deafening up roar:
 'Father-Christophsrl''
 Catching hs sons idea in 6 moment, the ferryman hastily rummaged out s roll of twine. one end of which Pierre fastened around the leg of his bird, which was, indeed. about to become in